


yellow

by lesmiserablol



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesmiserablol/pseuds/lesmiserablol
Summary: Courfeyrac swallows, his voice barely audible above the increasing commotion around them. “Bahorel, man, I can see. I can see color.”Bahorel’s eyes widen. "Where are they? Your soulmate?"Courfeyrac can’t control the tears that are filling his eyes. "I have no idea. It could've been anyone."(AU where the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 101





	yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, there are some mentions of blood and violence in this. If you like this, please leave kudos and comments! <3

"Do you see him?" 

Courfeyrac bites his lip and strains his eyes with the effort to look into the crowd. There has to be around two hundred people in the park, it is nearly hopeless to find Enjolras in this mess. He knows it is nothing to panic over, that Enjolras will be fine and he can take care of himself, but he lost Enjolras after he gave his speech and Courfeyrac can’t control the worry that is building inside his chest as his scans through the crowd fail to identify his best friend's location. 

He is sitting on Bahorel's shoulders, his hands resting on the man's head to keep his balance. "No, I don't see him. He should be fine, but knowing him, he probably got into some kind of fight with one of the jerks that were booing him. How about we switch? I'm sure someone who sees color would be able to find him easier, everyone looks the same to me."

Bahorel snorts. "Yeah sure, let me sit on your shoulders. Although I'm probably taller just standing on my own than I would be sitting on you."

Courfeyrac laughs, continuing his search for his friend, hoping to catch a glimpse of his light curls. "I hate to admit you have a point."

"Shit, is that the police?" Bahorel asks suddenly, pointing out the distant sound of sirens.

Courfeyrac looks up from the crowd to the source of the sound, and he nearly falls off of Bahorel's shoulders. 

"Courf?" Bahorel grips his friend's legs tighter to steady him. "We gotta get out of here. They still want me from that time I got away with hitting that cop with his own baton. Enjolras will meet us at my apartment."

He bends low to let Courfeyrac get off, but he has to reach out and support his friend before he can fall to the ground. "Courf! You okay?"

Courfeyrac stares up at him with wide eyes. Bahorel's eyes, his hair, his skin, his shirt...they are all different colors. Courfeyrac glances down at himself and then at the crowd, overwhelmed with all the colors he can see. 

Bahorel has steadying hands on his friend's shoulders, his look of concern deepening. 

Courfeyrac swallows, his voice barely audible above the increasing commotion around them. “Bahorel, man, I can see. I can see color.”

Bahorel’s eyes widen. "Where are they? Your soulmate?"

Courfeyrac can’t control the tears that are filling his eyes. "I have no idea. It could've been anyone."

Bahorel is about to say something but the shouts of the crowd increase, the people around them starting to run. He takes Courfeyrac's hand. 

"We'll find them. I promise, Courf, I won’t rest until we find them. But for now, we gotta go."

Courfeyrac is practically being dragged through the crowd by Bahorel, his stumbling feet hardly matching up to his pace as they sprint between the trees lining the edge of the park. They hardly stop to look for traffic before they are hurrying across the street. By now, the yells of the police are in the distance, the ringing in Courfeyrac's ears and the pounding of his heart getting louder with every step, his feet slowing down. 

Bahorel gives him a concerned look and grips his hand tighter. "We're almost there, Courf, hang on."

It is only three more blocks to Bahorel and Feuilly’s apartment, but it feels like the longest three blocks of his life, and once they run inside he immediately collapses against the wall of the living room. Some of the others are there, but it makes him dizzy to look at all the different colors, so he stares at the ground in front of him. 

"Do you know what happened?" Bahorel asks.

"A couple fights broke out, hecklers trying to drag the attention away from our peaceful protest," Jehan says from the window.

"I think most of the other protesters made it out, people started to scram as soon as the police showed up.” Courfeyrac recognizes Joly’s voice and feels relieved he got out of there okay. “Probably trying to avoid a repeat of last month's rally when things got...a little intense. You're okay though, right?"

"Joly," Bahorel says, calling his attention to where Courfeyrac is slumped against the wall. 

Joly rushes forward. "Is he hurt? Bleeding?"

"He’s not injured," Bahorel says softly. 

Joly grabs Courfeyrac’s hand and notices his friend is breathing quickly. 

"Courf, listen to me, focus on my voice, can you do that for me? I'm going to count to three and you're going to inhale while I do. Then you'll exhale when I count back down. Okay? I'll be squeezing your hand and relaxing my hold as I do to help you remember. In, two, three. And out, two, three."

Courfeyrac nods, following Joly's instructions. He barely registers that a couple more of their friends enter the apartment, but he notices Enjolras’s voice right away, ranting about the police overreacting. He stops talking when he walks in the living room, whispering to Bahorel.

A minute or two pass and Courfeyrac calms down and sniffs. "Thank you," he tells Joly softly. "Enjolras?"

Enjolras immediately kneels in front of his closest and oldest friend. Joly takes Musichetta's hand to let her pull him up to give them some space, and Enjolras gives them a grateful smile. He squeezes his friend's outstretched hand and Courfeyrac squeezes back, relieved that he is okay. 

“Courfeyrac, did you get hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine. The others...did you see Gavroche?"

"Eponine has him, I saw them as we were leaving."

"And Marius?"

"He'll be here any minute, he's fine."

"Enjolras?"

"Yes?"

Courfeyrac wipes the tears that are on his face. "That jacket is a nice color. What's it called?"

Enjolras shares a quick glance with Bahorel, the room falling completely silent. Usually, moments like these are causes for celebration, but everyone can see the pain in Courfeyrac's eyes. 

Enjolras takes a few moments to speak, gripping Courfeyrac's hand tighter. "When?"

"I was on Bahorel's shoulders, looking in the crowd for you. I heard the police sirens, and when I looked up at the cars...the lights on top were different colors. They weren't black and white."

"Oh no," Musichetta says quietly. 

Courfeyrac is, quite frankly, obsessed with his soulmate. He talks about the concept frequently and asks so many questions about the colors of the world to those who have found theirs. He was by Enjolras's side when Grantaire walked into the meeting and his best friend let in a sharp gasp. He would beg for descriptions and then spend hours listening to Bossuet and his partners discuss different colors. He would day dream about the first color he would see, the first sunset he'd get to fully appreciate, and the colors in the movies. 

But those day dreams always involved his soulmate. And here he is, in an apartment with a few of his friends, staring down at his shoes and trying to remember what color Marius once told him they were. He has no clue where his soulmate is. Or even who they are. 

Romantic. 

Enjolras, Jehan, Bahorel, Joly, and Musichetta are all staring at Courfeyrac, none of them sure what to say. For once, he can’t think of how to break the silence. 

"Just...let's not worry about this now. Don't bother the others with it yet. Now we need to focus on everyone's safety," Courfeyrac says after a few moments. 

Enjolras looks like he wants to argue, but he knows his friend is right. He stands up and walks up to Jehan. 

"I can see Bossuet and...I'm not sure if that's Feuilly or Marius with him," Jehan reports from where they are standing and staring out the window of the second story apartment. Sure enough, Marius and Bossuet enter the front door a few moments later, panting hard. 

"Sorry," Bossuet winces. "We got lost."

"Have you seen any of the others?" Joly asks, reaching out to grab Bossuet's hand. 

"Gavroche is with Eponine, I called her for directions and she said they're safe and will be here later. Cosette is with Feuilly..." Marius trails off, glancing around nervously and avoiding Enjolras's steely gaze. 

"Marius," Enjolras says firmly, his eyes panicked but his voice steady. "Where is Grantaire?" 

"Well..." Marius hesitates. "He, uh, may have gotten in a fight. When the cops showed up he tried to make a run for it with us but they got him and he told us to scram. He got arrested."

Enjolras curses under his breath. "Not again. Is he at least okay?"

"He's...it's not terrible."

"Marius..."

"Well, the cops stopped the fight, but-"

"Marius."

Marius swallows. "He looked pretty bad, Enjolras."

Enjolras visibly pales, but his jaw is set firm. 

"Looks like Feuilly and Cosette are coming," Jehan reports. 

Enjolras bites his lip. "Courfeyrac, are you up to coming with me?"

Courfeyrac nods. Despite the shock of everything, he does do well when he is distracted, especially if he is with Enjolras. 

Cosette and Feuilly join them, and Courfeyrac notices that Feuilly has the same color hair as Marius.

"We took a long walk, we thought someone was following us but we lost them," Cosette explains. "What's the plan?"

"Grantaire got arrested. Courfeyrac and I are going to get him. Everyone else, get going on communication. Texts, tweets, direct messages, whatever. Reach out to people you know were there and make sure they are safe. Let them know we're still on for next Saturday's rally."

"I'll order pizza," Bahorel grins, slightly easing their tensions. 

"We'll meet up back here later tonight." Enjolras reaches his hand out to help Courfeyrac off the carpet. 

Courfeyrac begins to follow him, stopping when he sees Marius is giving him a worried look. Courfeyrac stops to give him and Cosette a hug. It is uncanny how similar their concerned faces are, it’s enough to make Courfeyrac smile. 

"What's wrong?" Marius asks quietly. He and Cosette have the same color of eyes, matching the color of the sky outside. 

"Don't worry about me," Courfeyrac says, despite the fact that he is talking to the biggest worrier alive. "I'll talk to you guys tonight, okay?"

Cosette nods and squeezes Marius's hand, and he nods too. "See you tonight."

Courfeyrac catches up to Enjolras, who is waiting for him in the open doorway, and the two make their way down the stairs. 

* * *

Combeferre is practically thrown into the holding cell by the police officer who gave him a bruise on the jaw earlier. To be fair, Combeferre did give him a black eye. 

(But also, the cop had it coming.)

The bars clang as they are forced shut, and Combeferre jumps when he notices someone is already in there with him. He's hiding in the shadows, his clothes blending in with his surroundings. Although now that Combeferre can see colors, the dark colors are more intense and vivid than ever before. The man is sitting on the bed, his back against the wall and his face strained. 

After a few seconds of silence where Combeferre is deciding whether to ask if he is okay or to let him rest, the other peeks one eye open. "Hey, cellmate."

"Hi,” Combeferre greets, cracking a small smile. "Um, are you okay?"

"Not really," the other hisses through gritted teeth after considering the question. He closes his eyes again. "I just hope my boyfriend gets here soon so we can go to the hospital. Or maybe my friend can patch me up. We'll see."

Combeferre frowns. "Did you say anything to the police?"

He laughs bitterly. "I've caused them enough trouble lately, after today they're probably hoping I'll bleed out in here."

Combeferre's frown deepens. “Well, I can take a look. I'm pre-med."

"Are you really? I'm in luck. I should get locked up with doctors more often. I'm bleeding in my side right here, check it out."

Combeferre sits down next to him and his cellmate moves his hand from where he was clutching the wound. His hand and white shirt are soaked with blood, and Combeferre stares at the color of it, more intense than he had ever been able to see before.

"Is it that bad?" the other asks when he notices Combeferre's silence. 

"Sorry, I just...it's actually not too bad, I can stitch it up until you can get it checked out. It looks like there's not too much damage."

The other sighs in relief. "Glad to hear it. I'm Grantaire, by the way. Figure we might as well get to know each other while you tend to my wounds in jail."

Combeferre lets out a small laugh. "I'm Combeferre, your cellmate. Good thing I came prepared."

He pulls out a thin package from inside his sock and unfolds it to reveal a needle and thread along with various other supplies. 

"What happened?" Combeferre asks. 

"This jerk was harassing some protesters, so I intervened. We started throwing punches and next thing I knew, he tried to stab me. I dodged enough to only get slashed," Grantaire explains, watching Combeferre take an alcohol wipe and clean the surrounding skin. Grantaire hisses at the sting and quickly starts talking again to distract himself. "You're just like my friend, Joly, he carries stuff like this around too."

"Joly? Is he also a pre-med student?” Combeferre asks, and Grantaire nods. "I know him, we have a lot of classes together, we get along pretty well."

"No kidding," Grantaire says, looking away from what Combeferre is doing. He isn’t normally queasy, but something about watching his skin get sewn together makes him nervous. 

Combeferre notices his fidgety behavior. "Talk to me to distract yourself. Why were you at the protest today?"

"Besides the fact that I care about fighting against the system, my boyfriend Enjolras is the leader of the group that organized it. Oh, this is his shirt, he's going to kill me."

"He may be upset, but not because you dirtied his shirt."

"Good point. But yeah, I'm a part of their group, and he has a history of doing dumb stuff at protests, so I try to make it to all of them. Why were you there?"

"Joly actually invited me. He also wanted me to meet you all after the protest, so I guess this is close enough."

"Hey, I am the most charming member, so you got lucky."

Combeferre laughs. "Tell me about more of your friends."

"There are too many of them, first of all. I still don't know how I convinced them to like me. Eponine is the one I've known the longest, she's the toughest girl - no, _person_ \- you'll ever meet. But she's secretly got a heart. Then there's Courfeyrac, Enjolras's best friend. He's...quite the character. Super friendly. Super loud. We get along great, even though we are pretty different people.” 

"How are you two different?"

"Oh, where to begin. I thought the soulmate thing was stupid until I met mine. Courf hasn't met his yet but he fantasizes about it all the time. I'm not very comfortable with PDA, and Courf is all for it. He's the type that would love to get dipped into a kiss in public. His words, not mine. He’s a lightweight, I’m the opposite, things like that. It's all in the little things that make us different."

"Seems like a sweet guy."

"Enough to give you a cavity - ohhhh that's a lot of stitches."

"It looks worse than it really is,” Combeferre reassures him, finishing off the stitches. 

"It already feels better, thank you," Grantaire sighs. 

"No problem. Any other injuries?"

"Just tell me if my ribs are broken or if I'm just crazy."

Combeferre examines his other side. "Yeah...they're bruised, and at least one is fractured."

"Great. Enjolras is going to love me,” Grantaire sighs. 

"How'd you meet him?"

"Eponine dragged me to one of their meetings, and...the first color I saw was the golden tint of his curls. Have you met your soulmate?"

Combeferre slowly wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe. "Ish."

"Oh, sorry, did it not work out, or?"

Combeferre laughs. "Well, to start, I first saw him about an hour ago."

Grantaire looks at him for a second, confused, then his eyebrows shoot up. "Wait. Like. At the protest?"

"Yep. A crowd of over a hundred people, and they were all gone within minutes of the cops showing up. Including him. Instead of running, I tried to find him, and that’s when the cops caught up with me. They wanted to ask me some questions and I didn't think, I just punched one of them and tried to get away."

"You fought off the police? To try and get to your soulmate?"

Combeferre nods, staring at the ground as Grantaire lets out a low whistle. "Well, at least you have a heroic tale to relay once you find him."

"If I find him," Combeferre corrects with a humorless laugh. 

"Come on man, this sucks, but don't give up hope," Grantaire makes a face. "I sound like Courfeyrac. Anyway, like I said, I'm in the group that organized it. If anyone can find him, it's us. Do you know what he looked like?"

"He was sitting on the shoulders of someone tall, which is how I noticed him. His hair is dark and curly. He...I remember the color of his shirt, I just don’t know the name." Combeferre looks down at his own clothes and sees a similar shade on part of his shirt. "What is this one?"

"That's yellow," Grantaire answers.

"Yellow...yeah, he was wearing a yellow shirt. But we barely locked eyes for a second, I don't know if he even got a good look at me."

Grantaire is quiet for a few moments, looking thoughtful. "Listen man, my boyfriend will be here any minute. We'll get you out, too, take you to meet our friends, and we'll help you out."

Combeferre gives him a small smile. "I always pictured this differently. I can't get accepted into any of my ideal medical schools without being able to see color first, so I thought we'd finish the application process and celebrate with dinner, then watch some of those color documentaries to learn about what we've missed, stuff like that. And here I am instead, in a holding cell, having no idea who or where my soulmate is.”

There are loud footsteps and shouting in the distance, and Grantaire smiles. "That's my boyfriend. He probably brought Courf with him, now that I think about it,” he adds, giving Combeferre an unreadable look. 

Sure enough, within moments one of the men who made a speech at the rally is standing in front of the bars, his tense expression relaxing at the sight of Grantaire. Grantaire immediately gets up to meet his boyfriend, and Combeferre awkwardly cleans his glasses to give himself something to do. 

"Are you okay?" Enjolras asks, grabbing Grantaire's hands through the bars.

"I've been worse, my cellmate here did a fine job of patching me up."

The outline of another person steps into view beside Enjolras, and as soon as Combeferre puts his glasses back on he recognizes him immediately. The man is openly staring at him, and Combeferre can't stop the smile that breaks out on his face as he rushes forward to stand in front of him. 

"Enjolras, Courfeyrac, meet Combeferre. Combeferre, meet Enjolras and-"

"You're my soulmate."

Courfeyrac blinks up at him. Then he looks at Enjolras and Grantaire. Enjolras looks shocked, and Grantaire is smirking.

Courfeyrac looks back to Combeferre. "Wait, I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say something but I'm positive my mind just hallucinated there for a second, could you repeat that?"

"You're my soulmate. You, Courfeyrac, I saw you at the rally. Your shirt was the first color I ever saw. Yellow," Combeferre smiles. 

Courfeyrac looks down at his shirt with a grin. “This is what happens when I pick out my clothes in black and white. Looking at it now, it seems a little, I don’t know, bright? Loud?” 

Combeferre shrugs. “Suits you, from what I've heard from Grantaire."

"What you've...wait, what did you tell him about me?" Courfeyrac rounds on Grantaire. 

"All good things, don't worry,” Combeferre reassures him. “And as much as I enjoy standing here and admiring your eyes, I pictured this a bit differently."

The two are released and Enjolras immediately begins to fuss over Grantaire while Courfeyrac steps toward Combeferre. "May I?" he asks, and Courfeyrac nods eagerly, closing the distance between them. 

Combeferre grabs him and dips him into a kiss, Courfeyrac's surprised noise suppressed between their lips. After a few moments, Combeferre pulls him upright, and Courfeyrac is breathless, his cheeks rosy. 

“Wow, you just...okay, yeah...that was...wow,” Courfeyrac stammers. 

"He's never speechless. Way to go." Grantaire gives him a wink. 

Combeferre smirks and grabs Courfeyrac’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Shall we?” he asks. 

"Yes!" Courfeyrac squeaks. "The sun is about to set, hurry, we have to go watch it!"

They don't stop holding hands as they rush out of the building, neither of them able to keep the smiles off their faces as they watch the sun lower on the horizon. The yellow of the sun reminds Combeferre of Courfeyrac, and he gives his hand a squeeze. He will spend the rest of his life thinking of Courfeyrac whenever he sees the color yellow, and he’s happy about that. He knows this is just the first of many, many sunsets that they will watch together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you all enjoyed that! This was another fic that I wrote years ago and then never touched again, so it was fun to revisit it and post it. As always, [come find me on tumblr](http://www.lesmiserablol.tumblr.com). :)


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